


Dirty Little Secrets

by hchollym



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Family Feels, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Protective!Bilbo, Violence, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:58:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hchollym/pseuds/hchollym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bilbo met a dwarf at the Prancing Pony, he never dreamed of how much it would change his life.</p><p>15 years later, he goes on the quest with Thorin's company, completely unaware that Fili and Kili are the cousins of the child that he had to give up to protect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Several notes before the story starts:
> 
> I started to write this on the Hobbit kink meme for one of the prompts (see below), but I decided to finish it on here, because the kink meme word limit drives me crazy. This is still a WIP, but I am going to post everything that I have written so far, and I have the outlines for the rest of the chapters already made, so it shouldn't take too long to finish. 
> 
> Obviously, I messed with canon, so if you are not okay with that, then turn back now. Otherwise, just go with it. I kept the timeline the same as it is in the book, except that I am pretending that Bilbo's parents died several years earlier than they did in canon.
> 
> I don't know how to add accent marks to the names on here, so just pretend that they are there. Sorry! 
> 
> ...
> 
> Written for the kink meme prompt:
> 
> What if Bilbo, years before the company arrived on his doorstep, used to be married to a dwarf and even had a child with them? (mpreg or fem!Bilbo are fine) But then something happened (death, they disappeared, went into hiding, idc) and they weren't in the picture anymore and Bilbo is alone and heartbroken, and when the dwarf's arrive years later they bring all the memories of his old family back and that's why he's a bit stand-offish and pretends to be ignorant on dwarf culture. 
> 
> Bilbo can't help but be a bit protective/mother-hen Kili and Fili though, as they're so young and he misses his own child and they remind him of them. Thorin of course doesn't like this but allows it until it all boils over and the company find out about his past marriage. Comforting and outrage ensues. 
> 
> I just kind of really want Bilbo to have been married to a dwarf and had a kid with them before the quest to reclaim Erebor and to see him looking after Kili and Fili as a result of him being no longer able to look after his own child.
> 
> ...
> 
> I really just wanted an excuse to write Bilbo/Frerin... this prologue and the next two chapters take place 15 years before the quest.

The wind howled and the thundered roared as the earth was drenched in a violent onslaught of rain. Frerin was soaked to the bone by the time he reached the Prancing Pony, and he was drawn to the warm, dry inn like a moth to a flame. He ordered a pint of ale and retreated to a dark corner to sip it in peace. He was tired down to his very core. 

He had been running for over 125 years, never staying more than a few days in one place. Everyone he used to know believed him to be dead; his family, his friends, his people. As far as they knew, he had died in the Battle of Azanulbizar. The ground had been covered in so many corpses that it was impossible to go through them all. Anyone that was unaccounted for was presumed dead, because most of them were. A few of them had escaped though, himself and his father included. 

Thrain had led him and four others west into Mirkwood before they were captured by Sauron’s agents. They were brought to Dol Guldur, where they were tortured for months upon months. It could have been years for all Frerin knew. Time seemed to have no relevance in there. Every day, they were left to rot in their cold and dirty prison cells until their hope of escaping was dwindled down to nothing. 

They would have died in there had it not been for Gandalf. The wizard had arrived on a reconnaissance mission, and he quickly helped them escape, but at that point, it was only Thrain and Frerin left. He told them that the rest of their kin had settled in the Blue Mountains, so they headed west to join them. 

Thrain’s mind was already gone, and he only survived another two weeks before succumbing to death, leaving Frerin feeling more lost and alone than ever. He was chased by orcs and wolves everywhere he went for he knew too much. He saw Sauron steal the last of the Seven Dwarf-rings of power from his father, and that made him a threat. Sauron wanted him dead before he could tell anyone what he knew, and anywhere he went, he would have a target on his back. 

If he traveled to the Blue Mountain to meet his kin, he would be putting all of their lives in jeopardy. He wanted to be reunited with his brother and sister more than anything, but he couldn’t risk their lives for his own selfish desires for family. He thought about sending word to Thorin and Dis to tell them that he was alive, but it wasn’t safe enough. 

If the orcs intercepted the letter, then they would assume that his brother and sister knew where he was, and that would put them in precisely the danger that Frerin was trying to avoid. He would have to stay hidden to keep them safe; dead to the world. Maybe eventually, Sauron’s forces would believe him to have died like his father and give up on their chase. 

In the meantime, he chose the alias Fain and ran from place to place, trying to lay low. The days turned into years, and Frerin could barely even remember his old life. His brother and sister’s faces were nothing more than a faded memory, and he was left as a shell of his former self; broken and alone. He never dreamed that a small hobbit would change everything.


	2. Hidden in Plain Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Frerin's first meeting takes a dangerous turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice, I have tentatively posted that this story will have 8 chapters. That is how the outline is written, but it could change if some chapters end up being longer or shorter than I planned. 
> 
> There's a little more messing with canon in this chapter. I'm pretending that not many people know about the Shire.
> 
> If you're wondering why I wanted to write Bilbo/Frerin, it's because of this picture that someone posted as their head-canon of Frerin: http://rebloggy.com/post/dwarves-frerin-beowulf-and-grendel-newheadcanon-thorinoakenshield-durin-s-folk/43439455306

Bilbo Baggins was alone. At least, that’s how he felt. His father had died eight years ago, and his mother had just passed three months prior. He had always loved living in Bag End, but now it just felt cold and empty. It was quiet, and every room held so many memories that Bilbo felt like they were suffocating him. He had more than his fair share of cousins and aunts and uncles, but that didn’t stop him from feeling lonely. 

Two weeks after his mother’s funeral, he found that he just couldn’t take it anymore; he needed to get away for a while. He always planned on returning, but at that time, he just couldn’t handle being in the Shire. Hamfast Gamgee, being the loyal friend that he was, had offered to go with him, but Bilbo politely refused. He appreciated the offer, he really did, but this was something that he needed to do for himself. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find in his travels; maybe closure or a distraction.

He packed his bag and left with a heavy heart, no specific destination in mind; just going where his feet took him. He made it as far as Fornost before he turned around. He was a hobbit among men during most of his travels, and people stared openly at him with curiosity. He felt like some strange animal locked in a cage for everyone to gawk at. 

He didn’t belong out there, but ever since his mother passed, he didn’t feel like he belonged in the Shire either. He wasn’t sure he belonged anywhere anymore. The thought filled him with despair, and while he did his best to push those feelings aside, they would always find a way to rear their ugly head back into his mind. 

By the time Bilbo found himself back in Bree, the sky was black as the clouds rolled in. A bad storm was imminent; he could feel it in his bones, and he quickly took refuge in the Prancing Pony before he was caught in the midst of it. The inn was no stranger to hobbits, but there were no others there tonight. He ordered a pint of ale and sat at a small table off to the side in order to observe everyone around him. 

He liked watching people. It was entertaining, and truthfully, he preferred it to being in the midst of the large crowds and loud conversations. There was a family there, and Bilbo watched longingly as the two children ran around the room before hopping into their parents’ laps. He quickly averted his gaze to stare at the table as he sipped on his drink, nostalgia overtaking him. He didn’t know how long he was lost in his own thoughts, but when he looked up again, the other occupants in the room had changed. 

Many had retreated to their rented rooms, and there were others who seemed to have just arrived. His eyes scanned across the room and landed to rest of a lonely dwarf who was sitting in a dark corner. His back was hunched over the seat, and his eyes downcast. The hood of his cloak was up over his head, but Bilbo could see strands of dirty blonde hair sticking out, and his clothes were soaked from the rain. 

As if sensing Bilbo’s gaze, he looked up suddenly, and their eyes locked. Bilbo felt his breath catch in his throat at the piercing blue eyes that seemed to look into his very soul. The dwarf had a thick stubbly beard and mustache, and his face was tense and frowning. Bilbo looked away quickly. Those eyes had been so tragically sad and alone, and Bilbo wondered what had happened to make them that way. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the innkeeper approach the dwarf with a scowl on his face. 

“Eh you, either pay for another drink, rent a room or get out,” he told the dwarf, who was taking his time nursing the last tiny sip from his pint. Bilbo wondered how long the other had been sitting there for the innkeeper to confront him like that. It couldn’t have been too long, as Bilbo hadn’t noticed him earlier when he was looking around the room, so it hardly seemed fair for the innkeeper to be giving him an ultimatum. 

He had a feeling that it had something to do with the other being a dwarf, which was completely ridiculous in his mind. His mother had always taught him to be kind and courteous to everyone, regardless of who they were, and he had half a mind to tell the innkeeper as much.

Frerin blinked before emptying his pocket wearily. He didn’t even have enough coins for another drink, and he sighed in defeat as he stood to leave. The rain was still pouring down heavily outside, and Bilbo’s heart went out the dwarf. Before he knew what he was doing, he was running over to the pair. 

“Wait.” They both turned to look at him questioningly, and he pulled out a few coins from his pocket to hand to the innkeeper. 

“Two more pints of ale, please. One for me, and one for my friend.” He gestured to the dwarf, and the innkeeper narrowed his eyes as he looked at the money. He grunted and took it anyway, going to fetch their drinks. The dwarf was looking at Bilbo with so much suspicion that he had to force himself not to shrink back from the gaze. 

“Why did you do that?” The other demanded. Bilbo shrugged, shifting from one foot to the other in nervousness. 

“Ah, well, you see, it’s still raining rather heavily outside, so I just figured that you might not want to go out there yet.” The dwarf still regarded him incredulously, and Bilbo felt himself continuing to fill the awkward silence. 

“Ah, besides, you and I are the only non-humans here tonight, and us outcasts have to stick together, you know,” he said half-jokingly, trying to lighten the mood and his nerves as the dwarf’s stare bore into him intensely. Whatever the dwarf was looking for in Bilbo’s eyes, he seemed to find it as his shoulders relaxed slightly. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly as the innkeeper returned with their drinks. Bilbo nodded politely in return. “You’re welcome.” He stood uncomfortably, unsure if he was supposed to turn around and walk back to his own table or not, as the dwarf continued staring at him contemplatively. 

Just as Bilbo had made up his mind to walk away, the blonde outstretched his hand to him. “I’m Fain.” Bilbo blinked before he took the hand and shook it. 

“Bilbo Baggins.” The dwarf motioned for Bilbo to sit opposite him at the table, and he hesitantly did so. 

“And what brings a hobbit out here by himself?” The blonde asked curiously. Bilbo took a sip of his drink as he mulled over the question. Now, Bilbo was certainly not the type of hobbit to go pouring out his deepest secrets to random people he met, but it had been so long since he had really talked to anyone that he found himself tempted regardless. 

Perhaps the dwarf was the perfect one to talk to, because he was a total stranger, and more than likely, Bilbo would never see him again. He also couldn’t help but feel like the other was a kindred spirit; something in his eyes had seemed so similar to Bilbo’s own feelings. 

“My mother passed three months ago, and with my father gone as well, I just needed to get away. I didn’t feel like I could stay in my house right now; it just feels so empty. I’ve been traveling for a little while now, but the truth is, I feel like I’ve lost myself a bit. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere anymore, so I’m not sure where to go now.” 

He felt strange saying this to someone he just met, but the ale was loosening his tongue some, and he actually found some relief in saying the words out loud. It felt like a weight was being lifted off his chest to finally get them out. 

The dwarf was visibly surprised by his candid answer, obviously not expecting him to be so honest, and he blinked, his mouth slightly gaping. He closed it and swallowed. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely as he sipped his drink. Bilbo merely shrugged in response and did the same. 

The dwarf seemed to be having a battle within his own mind, so the hobbit stayed silent until the other finally seemed to reach a conclusion and offered up, “My family is gone as well.” Bilbo noted how he didn’t say that his family was dead, so he had a feeling that there was more to the story, but he didn’t press it. It wasn’t even his business, and besides, the other would talk if he wanted. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. The blonde nodded. For the first time in many years, Frerin found himself wanting to break the silence. He usually hated talking, because it was dangerous to interact with anyone too much, but this hobbit had been so open and honest with him that it left Frerin with a desire to do the same. He almost felt like he needed to explain himself. 

Even though the hobbit didn’t question his word choice, Frerin could tell that he noticed it. Ironically enough, the fact that he didn’t push Frerin about it made the dwarf want to tell him all the more. It had been so long since Frerin had any sort of companionship that the feeling was entirely foreign to him. He found himself speaking once more, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“My brother and sister are still alive, but I haven’t seen them in many years. I’ve heard news that my sister had two sons, but I haven’t met them yet. I doubt I ever will,” he said sadly. It didn’t escape his notice that it actually felt nice to tell someone that. Bilbo gave him a sympathetic look. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any siblings, but I have quite a few nieces and nephews, and I can’t imagine never seeing them again,” he said honestly. The blonde nodded slightly and gave the hobbit a small smile before they lapsed into a comfortable silence. 

Frerin was sipping his drink when the hairs on the back of his head started to stick up, and every warning bell inside of his body started to scream danger. He looked around the room quickly and noticed three men looking at him with predatory expressions. They started to slow approach the dwarf and hobbit, and Frerin stood quickly, grabbing the hobbit and pulling him towards the door. 

Bilbo was baffled by the sudden turn of events as he frowned in confusion. “What are you doing?” The dwarf didn’t answer him. The room was packed, and he maneuvered them both through the crowd and out the door. “Run,” he said urgently as soon as they were outside. He took off, trying to pull the hobbit along with him. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect the other, even if meant he had to drag him away from the danger. 

Bilbo had no idea what was going on, but something about the dwarf’s tone of voice startled him out of his daze of confusion. He started to run alongside the dwarf, whose hand was still gripping his wrist tightly, through the cold, pouring rain. With Bilbo’s cooperation, Frerin sped up, and the hobbit did the same. Bilbo kept up with the other’s pace easily as hobbits were quick and light on their feet. 

He glanced behind him and saw three men chasing after them. The adrenaline started pumping through his veins, and his feet moved even faster on their own accord. The dwarf darted into the forest, and Bilbo followed obediently. The other finally jumped off the side of the path and yanked Bilbo underneath an overhang of tree roots. He pushed the hobbit’s body as far back as he could, and they held their breath in a still silence. 

Bilbo could feel his heart pounding, and Frerin kept his arm across the hobbit’s chest to keep him place. The sound of footsteps was heard above, followed by “Which way did they go?” by one of the men. They paced back and forth above the overhang before another said “this way.” They started to run north and their footsteps quickly faded away. Bilbo and Frerin stayed silent for another minute before they exhaled sighs of relief. 

“What was that about?” Bilbo turned to look at the dwarf in question, and the other sighed, running a hand through his hair. He should have never invited the hobbit to sit down next to him. He should have just thanked him and let him go on his way. Now he was in danger because of Frerin, and the guilt was churning in his stomach. 

“I have a price on my head.” Bilbo’s eyes widened as the dwarf continued. “Now that they’ve seen you with me, you’re in danger too.” He looked so guilt-ridden and weary that Bilbo couldn’t even bring himself to be angry with the other. “I am sorry that I brought you into this,” the blonde finished sadly. Bilbo shook his head vehemently. 

“No, it’s alright. It’s not your fault,” he said. It wasn’t alright, but how was he supposed to be upset with someone that was so broken? It was like kicking someone when they were already down; it wasn’t right. He didn’t ask why there was a price on the other’s head, because truthfully, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He was slightly afraid of finding out, so he opted for the ‘ignorance is bliss’ road. The dwarf shook his head. 

“It’s not alright. But right now, we need to find a place to hide.” He was grateful that Bilbo didn’t ask why he was being chased, because he didn’t have an answer for him; at least not one that he could say. He felt terrible though. The hobbit had been kind to him, and Frerin had repaid him by putting his life in danger. 

“We can go to my home in the Shire. It’s very rare for any of us to leave or get visitors that aren’t family, so it’s a private, quiet place. We’ll be safe there.” Frerin shook his head roughly. 

“No, they saw me with a hobbit. The first place they will look is hobbit towns around this area. Going to your home would just put everyone else there in danger.” Bilbo shook his own head just as stubbornly. 

“They will search all the hobbit towns that they know of, but as I said, we hobbits in the Shire keep a very low profile. Very few outsiders even know the place exists. Besides, the last thing the men will expect is for me to take you back to my home, because that would be too obvious, which is why it’s perfect. We will be hidden in plain sight.” 

Frerin looked doubtful, but at the moment, their options were running considerably low, especially since he had no money left, and the hobbits argument did make some sense. He hesitantly nodded his consent, hoping that the other was right about what he said so they weren’t putting everyone else in the Shire danger. They would head there for now, but he had no intention of staying long. 

“Alright, lead the way,” he said in a resigned tone, and Bilbo nodded. 

He started heading through the forest, silently grateful that he knew the path to the Shire by heart. Otherwise, traveling there in the dark would have been impossible. The dwarf didn’t seem to have any trouble seeing in the dark, and he caught Bilbo from tripping several times. As they headed toward the Shire, neither of them had any idea how much that decision would change their lives.


	3. Return to Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Frerin arrive in the Shire and get to know each other better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter that I have written so far on the Hobbit kink meme. As I said in the beginning, I already have the other chapters outlined, so the next one should be up soon, but I'm not making any promises because this week has been crazy busy for me. 
> 
> Comments are always much appreciated <3

By the time Bilbo and Frerin arrived in the Shire, they were both exhausted and starving. In their haste to escape the men chasing them, they had left their packs at the inn and were stuck with no supplies and very little money. Frerin was used to living under such harsh conditions, but Bilbo was an entirely different matter. He found himself growing increasingly irritable during the several days that the journey took to complete. 

His foul mood was not helped in the slightest by the other’s lack of interaction with the hobbit. The dwarf seemed perfectly content to travel in silence, only participating in small talk about the path or the weather, and it drove Bilbo mad. He was left with only his thoughts to entertain him, and he craved a warm meal and cozy bed. 

Frerin spent the trip mulling over his options. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with this hobbit after this. He knew that he couldn’t stay in the Shire for long, but should he bring Bilbo with him when he left? One the one hand, he didn’t want to endanger him any further, but if the enemy did manage to discover who Bilbo was, he didn’t want to leave the poor creature to fend for himself; he would surely be killed. This left him with a bit of a dilemma, one which he still hadn’t found an answer to by the time they reached the Shire. 

The first thing Frerin noticed about the area was that it was vibrant and full of life. When Bilbo had said that it was quiet, Frerin had assumed that most of the inhabitants kept to themselves. This couldn’t be further from the truth. The marketplace was packed with cheerful, smiling hobbits that laughed and conversed with one another merrily, and dozens of children ran through the meadows. Still, the lush rolling hills and simplistic design did make it seem peaceful despite all the noise and bustling activity.

When they reached Bag End, Bilbo noted gratefully that his yard had been kept trimmed and the garden weeded; no doubt by Hamfast. He would have to thank him later. The inside looked exactly as he had left it, except with a light layer of dust coating the furniture and the floor. He was flooded with a wave of memories as the tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He blinked them back and motioned for the dwarf to step inside. 

“Right, well, please do make yourself at home. I am going to put on some tea and start supper.” He started rummaging through the pantry, deciding to make as many dishes as he could. For one thing, he was starving, but for another, he wasn’t entirely sure how much dwarves ate. He assumed it to be quite a bit since they were larger than hobbits, so he made the extra food just to be safe. It wouldn’t do to let his guest go hungry. 

Frerin hesitantly took a seat in one of the worn armchairs that was in the living room. He felt out of place being in someone else’s home, but Bag End was cozy and warm, and he found himself relaxing despite his unknown surroundings. His eyes wondered about the room, taking in every decoration and piece of furniture, until he grew bolder and stood to explore the rest of the house. The hobbit was busy cooking supper, and he had told Frerin to make himself at home. 

He avoided the rooms with shut doors however, but he assumed the rest of the house to be fair game. He was surprised and amused to find that even the bathroom was decorated nicely. There was also a study lined with stacks upon stacks of books and piles of papers. He was moving to leave the room when a drawing on one of the papers caught his eye. It was a drawing of Shire, and a very good one at that. The shading and details were incredible, and Frerin stared at it in awe. 

The rolling hills and luscious landscape were the main focus, but Bag End was drawn off the side under a small hill. It was beautiful. He looked through the rest of the stack to discover that all of the pages were drawings, though some were of maps and some of other hobbits that Frerin assumed to be Bilbo’s family. All of them were fantastic, in his opinion. He wasn’t exactly an expert, but he could appreciate when something looked nice. 

Bilbo went looking for the dwarf to tell him that supper was ready and found him looking through a pile of his drawings in the study. He crossed his arms and cleared his throat in annoyance at the rude behavior. “What are you doing?” The dwarf jumped at the sudden sound, dropping the papers and scattering them across the floor. He looked at the hobbit sheepishly. 

“Oh, I’m, I’m sorry. It was rude of me to look through your personal things, but I saw these out of the corner of my eye and couldn’t help it. Did you draw them? They’re wonderful.” Bilbo blushed lightly, the tips of ears going pink. He found that his annoyance with the dwarf was quickly forgotten with the compliment. He had never shown anyone his drawings before, so he was flattered and slightly embarrassed by the response. 

“Well, um, yes, I did draw them. Thank you. It’s just a little hobby of mine.” He bent down quickly to collect the pictures off the floor, and Frerin did the same. When they were all placed neatly back on the desk, Bilbo remembered why he had been looking for the dwarf in the first place. 

“Right, well, supper is ready.” He motioned for Frerin to follow him, and the dwarf did so. The smell of food wafted to Frerin’s nose before he even saw the table that was covered in various dishes. It was enough food to feed an army, and Frerin’s mouth watered at the sight. It had been a very long time since he had been treated to a meal like that, and he was very grateful for it.

“Thank you for the meal, but you didn’t have to go through so much trouble for me,” he said humbly. Bilbo waved him off with a dismissive hand and replied nonchalantly, “It was no trouble at all. We hobbits love to cook and eat, you see.”

It was the most delicious food that Frerin had ever tasted. Granted, it had been a long time since he had a meal that even came close to comparing with it, so he may have been a little biased, but it was clear that Bilbo was an excellent cook. Frerin was completely shocked and slightly impressed by how much food the hobbit managed to eat, and he wondered how it all fit in his small body. It was quite the feat. 

“This is delicious, thank you,” he said again, and Bilbo smiled happily. “You’re welcome.” He enjoyed having company, and truthfully, he was grateful that the dwarf was there. He made Bag End seem less empty, and he gave Bilbo something to focus on other than his memories and grief. 

After dinner, Frerin helped Bilbo wash dishes, much to the hobbit’s surprise. Bilbo had tried to insist that it was unnecessary since Frerin was his guest, but the dwarf was even more stubborn than he was. He figured that it was the least he could do, and he didn’t really mind it.

They washed in silence until Bilbo couldn’t stand it anymore. Now that he was in better spirits, his curiosity about the other had returned. They had traveled together for several days already, and Bilbo still knew next to nothing about his companion. He wasn’t sure where to start, but he had noticed the dwarf’s interest in his books earlier, so that seemed as good a place as any. 

“Do you enjoy reading?” Frerin regarded him for a moment, trying to find any ulterior motive in the hobbit’s question. It seemed harmless enough though, so he answered truthfully. 

“Yes, very much so. Do you?” Back in Erebor, Frerin had hated reading with a passion. He thought it was boring and waste of time when there were so many other fun activities that he could be doing.

It wasn’t until after he starting running and hiding out that he grew to enjoy books. He kept to himself as much as possible, so books quickly became his only companions. They kept him entertained, and they helped him escape his own life, if only for a little while. Bilbo smiled and nodded enthusiastically in response. 

“Ah, yes, I love reading. What are your favorite books?” He asked, excited that they finally had something to talk about. 

They spoke for almost two hours, well after the dishes were clean, about various books and stories. There were a few books that both had read, but most of them were different, no doubt from their separate races. Still, they both enjoyed hearing the other describe some of their favorite stories in vivid detail. For just a little while, they both felt at peace with life. 

When they retired to bed, Frerin stayed up thinking. He was used to sleeping with one eye open, always looking out for danger, yet for some reason, being in Bag End made him feel safe, and he was tempted to let his guard down for the night. The thought terrified him. It would be foolish to lapse into a false sense of security, and he couldn’t afford to take that risk. 

Bilbo was different than anyone that Frerin had ever met. He was kind and open and so genuinely pure. His very nature was good and trusting, and it left Frerin wanting to confess everything to him. He wouldn’t though; he couldn’t. Still, the significance of those feelings was not lost on him. It was dangerous to have such feelings, and he would have to be careful of his fondness for the hobbit. It could be his downfall, and yet that still didn’t change the fact that Frerin had smiled tonight for the first time in decades.

Bilbo lay awake in his bed as well, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts were occupied by the dwarf. The other seemed naturally suspicious of everyone and everything, and he guarded himself like an army would guard their king. It made the Took side of Bilbo want to find a way to tear down his walls and see what was underneath. He was enjoying the dwarf’s company, even when they spoke very little, and he wanted to discover everything there was to know about him. 

In the back of his mind, Bilbo knew that a part of him wanted to fix the dwarf. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he had a feeling that it was because he felt broken too. He wasn’t sure how to help himself, but he might be able to help the blonde. The hobbit wasn’t a hero, by any means, but the dwarf seemed so tragically damaged that Bilbo had the overwhelming desire to save him from himself. 

The next morning, Frerin awoke to the smell of sausages and eggs. He was in a comfy, warm bed, and he had to wrack his sleep-muddled brain to remember where he was. He cautiously made his way into the dining room to see another large meal placed on the table. 

It wasn’t nearly as large as supper the night before, but it was still certainly more than they needed. As if on cue, his stomach growled, and he flushed. He was used to being hungry, so he cursed his stomach for becoming spoiled after one good meal. He hoped it wouldn’t take too long to break that habit again once he left. 

Breakfast was spent in a comfortable silence, and afterwards, Frerin helped the hobbit with dishes again. He liked the domesticity of the act. It was soothing to do something so ordinary. It made him feel normal for a change. He actually found himself wanting to break the silence, which was strange in and of itself.

“What else do hobbits enjoy doing?” He didn’t know much about them, to be honest, except their apparent love of food and cooking. Bilbo pondered this for a moment. 

“Well, I suppose we enjoy music and festivals. We will find any reason to throw a party,” he chuckled to himself before continuing. “One time, we threw a party for my niece’s first tooth. It was a bit excessive, but quite the celebration!” He recalled fondly. 

Frerin raised an eye brow and smiled slightly in amusement. Hobbits were a strange bunch. Dwarves loved parties as well, but they would never throw one for something as trivial as a first tooth. Still, Frerin could see the appeal of having countless parties. He supposed hobbits had the time for it, since they seemed to be detached from the normal trading issues and weapon training that usually took up so much of the dwarves’ time. 

There was a knock on the door, and Frerin tensed. The more intelligent part of his mind knew that if the enemy had found them, then they certainly wouldn’t be knocking politely, but that didn’t stop him from mentally preparing for an imminent threat. The hobbit seemed to have already forgotten about the men chasing them as he walked to the door and opened it with a friendly smile. 

“Hamfast, good to see you. I was actually going to visit you myself later today and thank you for taking care of my lawn while I was away. Please, come in.” He stepped aside, and the other hobbit entered and smiled humbly in response. 

“Ah, it was no problem, Mr. Bilbo, sir. I’m just glad you’ve made it home safely. I-“ he stopped when he caught sight of the dwarf, and his eyes widened in surprise. Frerin looked back coldly, sizing him up and trying to decide if he was a threat. He didn’t care for strangers (Bilbo was the exception). He half expected the other hobbit to bolt out of the house at any minute. 

“Oh, Hamfast, this is Fain, a friend of mine that I met in Bree. I invited him to stay with me for a while. Fain, this is Hamfast Gamgee.” Frerin nodded to the other hobbit suspiciously, and Hamfast seemed to snap out of his daze as he bowed light. 

“Ah, good to meet you, Mr. Fain, sir,” he said politely, though his eyes still seemed a bit confused. Bilbo noticed the tension in the room as he shifted from foot to foot. 

“Oh dear, where are my manners? Would you like some tea?” Hamfast nodded in response, and Bilbo hurriedly made his way into the kitchen to make some, leaving the other hobbit and Frerin to stare uncomfortably at each other. When the three of them sat down for tea, it was filled with an awkward silence until Hamfast finally spoke. 

“Could you tell me some about your travels, Mr. Bilbo? I do hope you didn’t run into any trouble.” He glanced sideways at the dwarf, and Frerin felt his blood boil at the implication, despite the fact that it was accurate. Bilbo blinked and shook his head calmly. 

“No, none at all. I made it to Fornost, you see. The city was quite beautiful this time of year.” He recounted some of his more memorable adventures, perhaps embellishing a bit, and Frerin and Hamfast listened in rapt attention. The tales were interesting, and Frerin had to admit that Bilbo had a knack for story-telling. It was like reading a novel out loud, and he found himself relaxing despite the unwanted company. 

By the time Hamfast made to leave, he seemed to have decided that Frerin was not a threat to Bilbo, and he bowed to him again, smiling kindly. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Fain, and welcome to the Shire. If you need anything, please let me know.” Frerin nodded his thanks, still uncertain about how to feel about the other hobbit, but fairly positive that he was not a danger to them.

Regardless, Frerin was relieved when he was gone. He hadn’t even realized how comfortable he had become in Bilbo’s presence until someone else disturbed that peace. They spent the rest of the morning reading to themselves in two of the armchairs in the living room, but they both found it surprisingly pleasant to have company, even in the silence. 

Frerin had planned to leave quickly, yet as the days passed, he found himself more and more reluctant to go. He was growing very fond of their little routine, where they ate together and then washed dishes, and he liked reading together in their armchairs. He liked watching Bilbo draw, much to the hobbit’s embarrassment, and he enjoyed listening to Bilbo tell him stories of the adventures that his mother and grandfather had gone on. He even liked walking through the marketplace.

Most of the hobbits regarded him coldly and with distrust, but he didn’t mind much. He just liked being around all the happy and care-free halflings. He was surprised that Hamfast and a few of Bilbo’s nieces and nephews actually seem to like him (though perhaps it was more like tolerate). They were always friendly when they saw him, smiling and waving happily, and he found himself growing less suspicious of them as the days went on. 

It was strange, but the Shire was starting to feel like home to him. He had been running for so long, and he was used to it, but now that he had spent time with Bilbo, he was tired of running. He wanted to stay in some place long enough to call it home. He wanted to stay in the Shire. The idea made him feel both content and worried. 

He found himself slowly and tentatively opening up to the hobbit. He could never tell him who he really was or who his family was, but he told him other things. He shared stories about his brother and sister, though he never said their names, and even told Bilbo about his mother’s death, which had always been a touchy subject for him. 

He was surprised by just how attached he had grown to the small, gentle creature, and he started to let his guard down. He knew that it was dangerous, because Bilbo would be able to hurt him if he wanted to, but Frerin actually trusted him not to. For the first time in many years, he didn’t feel so alone. 

Bilbo found that he was drawn to the dwarf more than he had ever been to anyone in his entire life. The other was surprisingly sweet and funny, and the more he opened up to Bilbo, the more the hobbit felt honored to see a side of him that was usually kept hidden. 

He never did question the blonde why there was a price on his head; it didn’t matter. He was still curious, but every instinct in his body was telling him that the dwarf was not evil or dangerous; he was deeply hurt and messed up on the surface, but still good underneath. 

And perhaps some things were better left unsaid. Everyone had secrets, including Bilbo, so he could hardly hold that against the other. He realized with a strange sense of contentment that while he had started out wanting to fix the dwarf, somewhere along the way, Frerin had started to fix him too.


	4. Weddings and Dwobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Frerin look back on their wedding and the birth of their son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support and encouragement on this story so far! I really appreciate it, and I'm glad that anyone is even interested in this couple, since I've been shipping it hardcore lately. 
> 
> I'm messing with canon a little more in this chapter by pretending that Bilbo does recognize Gandalf when the wizard shows up at Bag End to "invite" Bilbo on the quest. 
> 
> I used 3 words of Khuzdul in this chapter, but I am not an expert on the language, so I apologize if they are wrong. As far as I know, this is the translation for them: Âzyungâl - my love; Kurdu - heart; Adad - father. 
> 
> Last but not least, please notice the time change at the beginning of this chapter. It takes place 10 years after the last chapter ended!
> 
> As always, comments are very much appreciated <3

**10 years later**

Frerin had never felt so content in his entire life. He couldn’t believe that today was his and Bilbo’s anniversary. They had been married 5 years, but to him, it felt like he had known Bilbo his whole life. The hobbit was his other half; they fit together perfectly, almost as if they had been made for one another. He sometimes wondered if they were. The dwarves’ creator was married to the hobbits’, so it wasn’t completely foolish to assume that the two were meant for each other. 

Frerin wasn’t sure exactly when he had fallen in love with the hobbit. There was no sudden earth-shattering epiphany or lightning bolt that struck him. It was slow and gradual; a relationship that progressed from friendship to more. It had taken Frerin years to completely let his walls come crumbling down, but Bilbo had been patient and understanding, never pushing him or expecting something more. 

The hobbit was everything that was good in the world all rolled into one being. He was loyal and selfless, and he was kind and generous. He loved so strongly and unconditionally that it took Frerin’s breath away. To this day, Bilbo still had never questioned why Frerin had a price on his head or why he was running in the first place. He never pushed him into explaining, nor did he ever act bitter from not knowing. It was as if he trusted the dwarf so completely that his past didn’t matter. That kind of unwavering trust and devotion was incredible and awe-inspiring. It made Frerin feel like he could fly. 

There were many times when he came close to telling Bilbo the truth, but he couldn’t let himself be so selfish. It would only put Bilbo in more danger, and for what? So that Frerin wouldn’t have to keep dirty little secrets anymore? No, that wasn’t fair, and he refused to burden Bilbo with that knowledge. He loved him far too much for that. Bilbo was exactly what Frerin never knew he needed. 

Bilbo smiled serenely and hummed as he cooked dinner. He was making all of his husband’s favorite dishes tonight for their anniversary. It was going to be a large feast despite the other’s insistence that they didn’t need such a big meal. Bilbo had merely rolled his eyes and muttered something about “dwarves.” He may be married to a dwarf, but he was still a hobbit after all, and hobbits loved to cook big meals for special occasions. 

5 years of marriage certainly counted as a big occasion to him! When he first met the dwarf, he never imagined in his wildest dreams that they would fall in love. He had felt so alone and broken, but he had found an unexpected kindred spirit in the blonde, and the dwarf was like a healing salve to his wounded soul. 

He still had no idea why the other was running in the first place, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His curiosity had even been diminished to a fleeting thought. It didn’t matter who the dwarf used to be; all that mattered was who he was now, and that was a loyal and sweet husband, who was strong yet gentle at the same time. He was intelligent and supportive, and Bilbo found even their silence to be comforting. 

Bilbo realized that his feelings ran deeper than friendship the first time that he cried in front of the dwarf. He had finally gathered the nerve to go through his mother’s old things, and he had broken down sobbing from the memory of her. The dwarf had silently walked in and sat down on the bed next to him. He pulled Bilbo close in a warm hug as he rubbed his back soothingly, letting the hobbit soak his shirt with tears. 

He never asked or expected Bilbo to talk about it, and he never judged him for it, which Bilbo was immensely grateful for. When the dwarf had pulled away from the embrace, Bilbo realized how cold he felt without it. He had felt safe and relaxed in the blonde’s arms, as if nothing else in the world mattered except the two of them. The dwarf accepted him for who he was, and that was a new and amazing feeling that he never wanted to give up. 

The other hobbits of the Shire had been scandalized when they announced their betrothal, but it didn’t bother Bilbo or Frerin in the slightest. Bilbo didn’t even like half of them, and he certainly didn’t feel like he fit in amongst them, even around the ones he did like. The only time he felt like he belonged anywhere was when he was with the dwarf, so it didn’t matter if the other hobbits gossiped behind his back. It was worth it. 

Still, he was a hobbit, and being such, it was only proper to invite everyone in the family and village to attend the wedding. Most of them showed up, but whether it was out of obligation, curiosity or actual support was unknown. The ceremony had been simple and short, but the after party was large and boisterous. There was enough food to feed an army, so much ale that you could fill a lake with it, and tons of loud, lively music. 

It wasn’t exactly the dwarf’s cup of tea, but he had been very patient and understanding about the hobbits’ traditions, and that only made Bilbo love him more. As the party began to draw to a close, the happy couple was busy thanking everyone when a man arrived. He was more than twice the size of the hobbits, and he had a grey beard with a large, pointy hat sitting atop his head. The dwarf tensed beside him, and Bilbo frowned in response as he looked at the strange guest curiously. 

The man seemed familiar, but Bilbo couldn’t place his face. Still, he was fairly certain that the other had not been invited. He approached them with a kind smile on his face, stopping in front of the pair. “My dear Bilbo,” he greeted. Bilbo blinked, wracking his brain for any memory of the man, but he came up blank.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” He asked politely. His husband was looking between the two of them skeptically, as if he was surprised that they knew each other. The taller man didn’t seem offended in the least by the question or the stares. 

“Well you know my name, though you don’t remember that I belong to it. I’m Gandalf.” Bilbo felt a grin spreading across his face as realization dawned on him and the memories returned. 

“Not Gandalf the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks?” It had been so long since he had seen the wizard; the last time was when he was just a fauntling. He could hardly believe that the other was standing in front of him now. The wizard chuckled at the compliment. 

“The very same,” he replied a bit proudly, and he was quite obviously happy that Bilbo remembered something about it. Bilbo’s grin never faltered, but his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“But what are you doing here?” He looked at the man sheepishly, feeling rather guilty for asking such a rude question, but the wizard had been gone for so long that Bilbo wondered why he had chosen that time to come back.

“Well, when I heard from an old friend of mine that Belladonna Took’s son was getting married, I wanted to come and congratulate you myself. Imagine my surprise when I found out that you were marrying a dwarf!” His tone held no venom, but Bilbo still felt himself growing defensive at the words.

“Yes, well, Fain and I are very happy together, thank you,” he said in a tone that was harsher than he meant it to be. Gandalf seemed to notice the change in his attitude, and he held his hand up in a peaceful gesture.

“I meant no offense by it. I was merely surprised. It is not often that one finds a dwarf in the Shire, but I am sure that you two are a wonderful couple. Congratulations to both of you.” He turned his gaze to the dwarf, his eyes twinkling with amusement and something that Bilbo couldn’t quite place. It almost seemed as if they knew each other already, and the thought made Bilbo feel a little unsettled, but he tried to shrug it off. 

“Oh, it seems I have forgotten my manners. Gandalf, this is Fain. Fain, this is Gandalf. He used to set off the most spectacular fireworks at Old Took’s on Midsummer’s Eve.” The dwarf nodded and bowed his head lightly to the wizard in acknowledgement, but he was still tense and his eyes were steely. Bilbo frowned but said nothing. He trusted that the dwarf would tell him if there was something that he needed to know, but until then, he wasn’t going to let it affect his good mood. 

Once Bilbo was busy in conversation with a group of his Took relatives, Frerin casually slipped away, corning the wizard near one of the food tables. He felt like he needed to explain and make sure that Gandalf didn’t say anything to Bilbo. They had just gotten married, and Frerin didn’t want everything to come crashing down once the truth was out.

“Gandalf, I-” he started, but the wizard cut him off by shaking his head lightly and raising his hand. 

“Relax. I did not come here to tell anyone the truth about who you are. I merely had my suspicions when I heard that there was a dwarf in the Shire. It seems that I was correct. Everyone believes you to be dead, but I understand why you made that decision, and you have nothing to fear. You’re secret is safe with me.” Frerin nodded, feeling relief flood through him. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, and Gandalf’s eyes danced with amusement once more as he nodded his head in response. 

Frerin returned to Bilbo’s side, wrapping his arms around the hobbit’s waist and pulling him close. He nuzzled his head against Bilbo’s hair and placed a light kiss atop the golden curls. Bilbo sighed happily in response and melted into the embrace.

“I love you, âzyungâl,” Frerin said softly, and Bilbo smiled. He loved hearing the dwarf speak in his native tongue. It felt so real and intimate. He had even taught Bilbo a few of the easier words, and being able to share his language made the hobbit feel even closer to his husband.

“I love you too, my kurdu.” Frerin smiled at the word and closed his eyes in peaceful contentment. 

The wedding had been perfect, and Frerin and Bilbo looked back on the memories fondly as they prepared to celebrate their anniversary. Bilbo was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of giggling. He turned around to see his husband chasing their son and pretending to be too slow to catch him as the boy laughed merrily. 

If the hobbits were scandalized by their wedding, then they were downright appalled when Bilbo found out that he was pregnant. Even Frerin had been surprised. It wasn’t unheard of for a male dwarf to become pregnant, but it was incredibly rare. He had no idea that male hobbits were as fertile as their female counterparts. It excited and terrified him at the same time. 

Bilbo had similar feelings as well, because neither of them was sure that they were ready to be parents. They were both so afraid that they were going to do something wrong and mess him or her up for life. They were convinced that any mistake they made would permanently traumatize their child, and they were both worried that the baby deserved better parents than them. 

All of those fears vanished when they looked into their son’s eyes. He was so small and fragile and so amazingly perfect. He was a mixture of them both, part Bilbo and part Frerin, and it was magical and incredible. They could hardly believe that they had created a life together. They were both overwhelmed by the sudden rush of love that they experienced. It was stronger than anything that either of them had ever felt before. 

Frerin smiled at Bilbo, so grateful to his husband for giving him this amazing gift. The hobbit was positively glowing and radiating love as he stared at their son, and it made Frerin’s heart melt. The dwarf barely noticed the tears of joy that streamed down his own face as he held their son for the first time. 

Bilbo watched his husband’s eyes tear up as he held their son, and the dwarf looked so happy and carefree that Bilbo thought his heart could burst from joy. This was what had been missing in his life; a family. It filled a void in Bilbo’s heart that he hadn’t even realized existed, and he felt truly blessed to have both of them in his life. 

Bilbo had let his husband pick their son’s name, and Frerin had chosen Bili because it honored both his husband and his nephews. Bilbo didn’t know that his nephews’ names were Fili and Kili, and as much as Frerin wanted to tell him, he also couldn’t risk it. The less Bilbo knew about his true identity, the better it was for everyone involved. Still, it saddened Frerin that Bili would never meet his cousins. 

He wondered if they would be as close as Frerin had been to his sister and brother growing up. He liked to think so. He had never met his nephews before either, but if they were anything like their mother, then they would be so passionate and full of life. Bili probably would have adored them and looked up to them like Frerin had looked up to Thorin as a child. 

He could hardly believe that Bili was already a toddler; it seemed like just yesterday that he was born. It was still strange for Frerin to realize that he had a family. It was so surreal that he had to pinch himself sometimes to remember that he wasn’t dreaming. He had given up on ever having this, until Bilbo had come into his life and changed everything, and now he couldn’t imagine his life without either of them.

Bilbo smiled fondly as his husband continued to chase Bili around Bag End. It still amazed him that their son was so perfect. Anyone who saw him would say that he was the epitome of a dwarfling, but there was a little bit of Bilbo in him too. He was larger in stature than most hobbit children, and his feet were average size with no hair on them. 

He had wavy, dirty blonde hair and the unmistakable nose and cheek bones of his dwarf father, but his smile was a perfect copy of Bilbo’s own. Bili’s ears were pointy too, and his eyes were the same shade of bright, emerald green that Bilbo’s were. He already had such a strong personality, and it was a mixture of both fathers as well.

He was wild and adventurous, but he was also sweet and thoughtful too. He was stubborn and tough, but he loved flowers and plants, and he would spend hours in the garden. Frerin was convinced that Bili was going to be excellent with a sword, but Bilbo thought he would be better with a bow and arrow. He would probably take to both. 

They called him their little helper because he always wanted to help with anything that his fathers were doing, from cooking dinner to fixing broken furniture. He loved to play with other children, but he also liked to spend time by himself and listen to his fathers’ read to him every night. His laugh was infectious, and he could make you smile even if you were on the brink of crying. 

Frerin was so happy that he didn’t even really care that he couldn’t tell his own son his real name. It was worth it to keep his family safe, and truthfully, his old name didn’t even feel right to him now. He had changed so much that he didn’t feel like Frerin, son of Thrain anymore. He felt like Fain, husband of Bilbo and father of Bili. This was his life now, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. 

Frerin grabbed the toddler and lifted him into the air. “Aha, I got you!” He proclaimed triumphantly as Bilbo joined him where he was standing. They both started tickling Bili as the boy squirmed to get out of his father’s hold. “Adad, papa,” the toddler squealed happily. A knock on the door interrupted their laughter. Frerin put Bili down on the ground.

“Alright, Bee, go grab a few toys that you want to bring to Hamfast’s home tonight.” The other hobbit had offered to watch Bili for the night so that Bilbo and Frerin could spend some time together for their anniversary. Bili quickly darted into his room, and they both knew that he was going to try and bring as many toys as he could carry. Bilbo shook his heads fondly before opening the door. 

Hamfast looked panicked and terrified as he cried out, “Mr. Bilbo, Mr. Fain, there’s a pack of orcs crossing the border to the Shire now!”


	5. Losing Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frerin's past finally catches up with him, and everyone suffers because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super angsty and depressing, so please be warned! It has the loss of a child (though not by death), so this is a MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING. Please do not read this if the topic is too difficult or triggering for you in any way.
> 
> On a positive note, this is a lot longer chapter than the others, so yay! Also, I promise that this is not the last time that we will see Frerin and Bili. I’m not that mean!
> 
> Next chapter, Bilbo will finally meet the company, but I have a question for readers. Bilbo is going to end up being protective and a mother-hen to Fili and Kili (like the prompt stated), but I’m curious if there is anything specific that you all want to see him doing with the boys? Let me know!
> 
> Comments are always lovely <3

“Mr. Bilbo, Mr. Fain, there’s a pack of orcs crossing the border to the Shire now! A ranger overheard them say Bag End. They’re coming here!” Hamfast yelled in panic, and Frerin felt like time stopped as his world came crashing down around him. _No_ , he thought desperately. It wasn’t supposed to be like this; no one was supposed to find them. 

They were supposed to be safe. That’s why he never told Bilbo who he really was; he was trying to avoid this exact situation, and now it was happening anyway. His husband and his son, _his family_ , were in danger, and it was all because of him. He had put their lives at risk, and he would never forgive himself for that. 

He swiftly turned around and ran into the room that he and Bilbo shared, leaving a panicked and confused Hamfast standing at the door. Bilbo followed him with a worried expression, and he watched the dwarf grab his sword and throw a few things into a bag. 

“Fain?” His voice was pleading and scared, and Frerin stopped to look at him regretfully. 

“I don’t know how, but the one who put a price on my head must have found me. We have to get out of here.” Bilbo swallowed and nodded, trying to blink back the tears that were starting to form as he hurried into Bili’s room. He began to throw a few of his son’s things into a bag, and Bili stared at him questioningly. Frerin followed closely behind the hobbit, bending down on his knees so that he was eye-level with Bili. 

“Bili, I want you to listen very carefully to me, because this is important. You are going to go with your papa somewhere. I am going to meet you there later, but I need you to be very good, okay?” Frerin tried to smile reassuringly, but the tears were beginning to well up in his own eyes. He knew that he wasn’t going to be joining them later; this was most likely the last time that he would ever see his family. 

He could handle that though, as long as they were safe. Bili blinked in confusion but nodded anyway. He was completely oblivious to the danger that he was in -danger that his own father had put him in- and it felt like a stab to Frerin’s heart. He hugged his son close, kissing his head tenderly as he forced himself not to cry. 

“I love you, Bee. Always remember that.” The toddler nodded, and Frerin gave him a small smile as he stood and turned to Bilbo. The hobbit was frowning at him with his eyes narrowed, probably having already guessed what Frerin was thinking.

“Take the path over the Brandywine River and into Buckland. I will meet you there as soon as I can.” Bilbo shook his head vehemently as Hamfast entered the room. He had been hesitant about entering the house uninvited, but this was an emergency, and he wanted to make sure that everyone was alright. 

When he saw the looks exchanged between Bilbo and the dwarf, he quickly ushered Bili out of the room with him so that the couple could talk without upsetting the child. Hamfast had no idea what was going on, but his friends were in danger, and he would do anything he could to help them. 

With Bili out of the room, Bilbo shook his head again and fervently said, “No, there’s no way. We are going with you!” Frerin sighed sadly. He wished that they had time to talk about this – about everything- but they didn’t. The pack of orcs was getting closer to them every second that passed. 

“No, Bilbo, you can’t. If they find us, they will kill us all. You have to keep Bili safe. Please Bilbo, I’m begging you. I need you to protect our son.” Bilbo went cold with dread as he swallowed hard. The dwarf was right. If it was just him, then Bilbo would have gone with his husband in a heartbeat, but it was different now that they had Bili. Their son’s safety was more important than anything, so as much as it tore Bilbo apart, he nodded in resignation. 

“Alright, but you have to promise that you will meet us in Buckland. Promise me, Fain,” he demanded. He knew it wasn’t fair to ask the other to promise something that he couldn’t possibly guarantee, but he was desperate for some sort of assurance that his husband wasn’t going to die. 

Frerin gave him a sad smile as he cupped Bilbo’s face with his hands. He pulled the hobbit into one last kiss, pouring every ounce of love that he could into it. Bilbo could feel the finality in it, like a silent goodbye, and he choked out a sob when they pulled apart. The dwarf wasn’t going to meet them. 

“I love you,” Frerin said, his voice breaking as his own tears started to fall freely down his face. Bilbo took a shuddering breath as they pressed their foreheads together. “I love you too. I always will,” he whispered. Frerin took a deep breath and stepped away from the hobbit. 

“ _Go_ ,” he urged, and Bilbo didn’t need to be told twice. He ran from the room and grabbed Bili from Hamfast’s arms, heading straight for the door. He paused to look back at his husband one last time. Frerin gave him a small, sad smile, and Bilbo returned it with a watery one of his own. He left then, running as fast and as far as he could with the toddler in his arms. 

Bili was grasping at his shirt as he began to cry. The boy had no idea what was going on, but he could sense the pain and sadness of his fathers, and it scared him. The sound of wargs howling was heard behind them, and Bilbo gulped, praying to Valar that they would all survive. 

Frerin gave Hamfast one last grateful nod as he headed out the door and ran in the opposite direction of Bilbo and their son. He just prayed that the orcs would follow him instead. He had only been running about three minutes when the pack appeared behind him. They were a few hills away, but they caught sight of him almost immediately and quickened their speed. 

He sped up as much as he possibly could, silently thanking Mahal that the orcs found him and not Bilbo and Bili. The pack was getting closer, and he took a deep breath. He was oddly calm, content in the knowledge that his husband and son were out of harm’s way. He would gladly accept death if it meant keeping them safe. 

He felt a large figure tackle him from behind, and he was sent sprawling to the floor. The warg had him pinned down as it growled above him, and Frerin tried futily to push it off. Its teeth were so close that he could feel the disgusting, warm gust of breath on his face, and he closed his eyes as he prepared for the final attack. 

An orc bellowed something that he couldn’t understand, and the weight was suddenly removed from his body. He opened his eyes in confusion as two orcs grabbed him roughly by the arms and pulled him up. They bound his hands together in front of him with one end of a rope, and another orc held the other end. 

He was yanked forward harshly as the pack began to run, stumbling over his feet and being dragged painfully. He felt panic flood through his body as realization set in; they were taking him back to Sauron. He had been prepared to die, but this was worse; much worse.

Bilbo ran until his legs felt like they were going to give out. Bili had fallen asleep in his arms, lulled into slumber by the bouncing motion of Bilbo’s running. The hobbit’s arms felt like they were going to fall off from holding the toddler for so long, and he felt light-headed from the aftereffects of the adrenaline. He slowed his pace but kept moving, refusing to stop until he knew that they were safe.

By the time he reached Buckland, he felt close to passing out. He quickly paid for a room at one of the inns and collapsed onto the bed. He was still worried sick for his husband, but the run and his anxiety had taken its toll on his body, and exhaustion finally won out. He fell asleep with the toddler still slumbering in his arms. 

When they finally woke up again, Bili’s stomach growled angrily, and Bilbo felt the hunger gnaw in his own. He was overwhelmed by a sense of grief, but he smiled gently at the toddler. At least Bili was safe. The boy looked around the room and then held his arms up in question. “Adad?” Bilbo felt his heart ache, and he tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat. 

“Adad isn’t here yet, but he will be soon. Don’t worry, Bee. Everything will be okay,” he reassured, hugging his son close and rubbing his back soothingly. He knew that he was lying, but what else was he supposed to say? 

Bili was too young to understand any of this, and Bilbo just wanted to do anything that he could to comfort him and keep him from being scared or upset. The poor child had just gone through a terrible ordeal, and he was likely confused. He needed Bilbo to make him feel safe and stable.

They made their way downstairs and sat at one of the tables. As they began to tuck into their food, their table was suddenly darkened by a large shadow. Bilbo tensed, looking up fearfully at the figure in front of them, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw who it was. 

“Gandalf,” he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing before a confused look crossed his face. “What are you doing here?” The wizard gave him a sad smile and gestured to Bili, and Bilbo’s blood ran cold. He had a very bad feeling about this. He turned to his son and smiled gently. 

“What do you say we eat in our room? How does that sound?” The toddler smiled and nodded enthusiastically since that was something that was never allowed at Bag End; even his pout and puppy eyes never worked to deter Bilbo from enforcing that rule. He hated crumbs in the bed. He grabbed their plates, and Bili darted happily upstairs. 

When the toddler was suitably distracted by eating his food on the bed, Bilbo walked outside the door with Gandalf and shut it, turning to look at the wizard in apprehension. He shook his head, sighing regretfully, and Bilbo felt like crying.

“I am here because of your husband. I presume that you already guessed that Fain was not his real name?” He looked at Bilbo imploringly with his eyebrows raised, and the hobbit swallowed and nodded. He had his suspicions, especially considering how they met, but the dwarf had never confirmed them, and Bilbo had never asked. Gandalf nodded and continued.

“I suspected as much, but now is not the time to talk about his real name. The fact of the matter is that I knew him before he was known as Fain. I also know who is hunting him. I’m afraid it is Sauron.” He paused, waiting for Bilbo to absorb the information, and the hobbit’s eyes widened in shock. 

“The, the-” he stuttered out. Even in his wildest guesses, the most that Bilbo had assumed was that his husband had killed someone. This was something else entirely. He wasn’t even aware that the necromancer was still around. Growing up, he had heard stories about it, but they were always told in a way that made them seem like myths. This was far more dangerous than he could have ever imagined. 

Deep down though, in a very small part of his mind, he felt relief, because this just proved that he was right all along to trust his husband. He obviously wasn’t evil since he was enemies with the Deceiver. If anything, that just proved how good he truly was. Even though Bilbo had told himself that the dwarf’s past didn’t matter, it still felt nice to know the truth. 

Yet now he was even more terrified for his husband’s safety, and he looked at Gandalf pleadingly as he asked, “Is he okay?” Gandalf’s eyes shown with sorrow, and Bilbo’s stomach dropped. He closed his eyes as he waited for the wizard to say it out loud. He didn’t want to hear the words, but he had to. 

“I was informed by an old friend that the necromancer had finally figured out where he was and that a pack of orcs was headed for the Shire. I came as quickly as I could, but it was too late. They had captured him already. I am sorry, my dear Bilbo,” he said remorsefully. 

Bilbo’s head started to spin, and he leaned against the door for support. His knees felt weak, and the hall seemed to be closing in on him. “No,” was all he could whisper, tears falling from his eyes as he swallowed, feeling like a giant rock was constricting his throat.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to meet them there. They were going to hide as a family. He couldn’t be – but no, wait, Gandalf hadn’t said that he was dead. He looked up, renewed hope and desperation in his eyes. 

“You said captured, not killed. Does that mean that there’s still a chance that he’s alive?” Gandalf seemed to consider him very carefully before nodding slowly. 

“There is a chance, yes.” Bilbo smiled, laughing in relief as he ran his hands through his hair. 

“Then there’s still time to save him. Where would they have taken him?” Gandalf frowned and shook his head though, dashing Bilbo’s rekindled hope. 

“Wherever they have taken him, it is not somewhere that you go, Bilbo. Even I cannot go there myself. That’s why I am working on convincing the White Council to go with me and drive him out of the area permanently. But until then, there is nothing that either of us can do.”

The wizard put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and gave him it a supportive squeeze, but Bilbo could barely feel it. He suddenly felt drained, like all the energy had vanished from his body, and he was so tired. Gandalf looked hesitant, and Bilbo sighed as he closed his eyes again and leaned his head back against the door. 

“There’s more?” It was more of a statement than a question, but Gandalf answered anyway. 

“I’m afraid so. The necromancer knows that he had a son. He is looking for Bili now, and when he finds him, he is going to kill him.” Bilbo’s eyes widened fearfully as the panic shot through him. Not Bili. 

He would be able to live without his husband, even though he was heartbroken and would miss him every day, but Bili was another story. That was his son; his heart and soul. He meant more to him than anything in the entire world; he couldn’t lose him. Even the thought made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. 

“I won’t let that happen. We will run. We’ll find somewhere safe to hide or we can keep moving. I will take him to the other side of Middle-earth if I have to!” He said forcefully, trying not to raise his voice so that Bili wouldn’t hear them and get scared. Gandalf only looked at him sympathetically in response, and Bilbo didn’t like it one bit.

“They will not stop chasing you, and sooner or later, they will find you. They already found you once, and they will do it again. I am sorry, my dear Bilbo.” Bilbo felt like his world was crumbling around him, but he refused to accept it. He would fight all of Middle-earth if he had to.

“No, Gandalf, we will hide somewhere better. Or we will keep moving; there has to be a way. He’s my son. I won’t let him die. I have to protect him, no matter what the cost,” he said despairingly. The wizard placed a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder again and looked into his eyes gravely.

“There is only one way to do that. You have to give him up.” Bilbo frowned at him and furrowed his brow, shaking his head disbelievingly. What was Gandalf talking about? He wasn’t going to give Bili up. That was insane. 

“No, we will just keep running,” he said determinedly. He started to turn around and go back into the room, but a firm hand stopped him. 

Gandalf’s expression was hard now as he bellowed harshly, “They will chase him for the rest of his life. Do you want that for him? Always looking over his shoulder and in danger?” Bilbo narrowed his eyes angrily at the wizard. How dare he ask him that? Of course he didn’t want that for his son. He wanted Bili to grow up happy and secure, and most of all, safe. 

“Of course I don’t, Gandalf! But what you’re suggesting is not reasonable!” He shouted back, but then lowered his voice as he remembered that Bili was still in the room behind him. Gandalf sighed and shook his head, the sad, weary expression back on his face. 

“My dear Bilbo. I know that this is unimaginable and cruel to ask of you, but it is the only way to insure that Bili will be safe. If you keep running, Sauron will know that he is with you, and he will keep chasing you until he finds him. The only reason that he would ever stop hunting Bili is if he thinks the child is dead. You will have to return to the Shire alone and pretend that he passed away in an accident.” 

Bilbo gaped in shock. He couldn’t even wrap his mind around the idea of faking his son’s death. His head felt like it was in a haze of confusion, and he shook it wildly. It was too much for him to comprehend. He opened his mouth to speak, but Gandalf silenced him with his hand.

“This isn’t permanent. Once the White Council agrees to drive Sauron out of the area for good, then it will be safe for Bili to return home. Until then, there is a family that will take care of him. You must know that I trust them implicitly; otherwise I would not leave Bili in their care. They will protect him until you can be reunited with your son.” Bilbo closed his mouth, swallowing as he tried to process everything.

He didn’t want to give Bili up. He wanted his son with him forever, but he knew that he was being selfish. Gandalf was right; Bili wasn’t safe with him, and his son’s life was more important than his own happiness or desires. It would kill him to let him go, but if this was the only way to keep him out of danger, then Bilbo had no choice. 

It broke his heart to think about how confused and upset Bili would be. He was going to lose both his fathers and live in a strange home with an unfamiliar family all at once. It would hurt him tremendously, and the thought made a choked sob leave Bilbo. He never wanted his son to feel abandoned or hurt. 

Yet it didn’t matter how happy Bili was today if he was dead tomorrow because Bilbo was too weak to give him up for his own good. Bili was young and strong and resilient; he would heal eventually and be okay, but most importantly, he would be alive. 

“What family?” He finally asked in anguished resignation, trying to take deep breaths to steady himself as the tears continued to fall. His body was trembling with repressed sobs, and it took all of his strength not to curl into a ball and never get up again. Gandalf just looked at him sadly and shook his head. 

“I cannot tell you that. His safety depends on no one ever finding out that he is alive. If you know where he is, you will be far too tempted to write him or go see him, understandably so, but we can’t risk giving away his location. And Valar forbid if the orcs ever captured and tortured you. I’ve seen many strong men break from such treatment, and I know that you will never forgive yourself if you slip and tell them where to find Bili. I’m sorry Bilbo, but even you cannot know where he is.”

Another choked cry escaped the hobbit as he fell to his knees. The sobs wracked his body as he gasped for air. He felt like he was dying. He couldn’t imagine his life without Bili; not seeing his smile and hearing his laugh every day. It made him feel like he didn’t want to wake up tomorrow. Gandalf knelt beside him and placed a hand on the hobbit’s arm in an effort to console him. 

“When?” Bilbo couldn’t even manage to form a full sentence; it felt like an impossible feat to even get the one word out. Gandalf sighed, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before releasing it. 

“We will leave tomorrow morning. I must warn you, Bilbo, it is essential that his death looks real. If Sauron has any doubts that Bili is dead, he will not stop hunting him. You will have to be very convincing.” Bilbo laughed pitifully, and Gandalf winced at the sound. 

“I don’t think it will be hard to convince people that I’m grieving, because I will be. Even though you claim this isn’t permanent, I’m still losing my son,” he shot out maliciously, though it wasn’t really aimed at Gandalf. He wiped his tears and exhaled deeply, standing up and turning towards the door. 

He left Gandalf in the hall without another word and saw Bili sitting on the bed, smiling and patiently waiting for him to return. Bilbo tried to give him a reassuring smile despite the fact that his heart was shattering into a million pieces. Bili needed him to be strong right now. He pulled the toddler into his lap and hugged him close.

“Bili, listen to me. You know you’re Adad and I love you very much, you know that right?” He looked at his son, and Bili nodded, completely unaware to why his father had asked such a question. Bilbo kissed his head and closed his eyes as he gathered the strength to continue. 

“And we will always love you, no matter what. I want you to remember that, okay?” Bili nodded again, a confused little furrow in his innocent brows, and Bilbo continued.

“You are going to go stay with another family right now, but it’s just going to be for a little while. They’re really nice, and you’re going to have lots of fun. Then, one day soon, you will come home with me again, alright?” The tears started to escape his eyes before he could stop them, and Bili began to frown with worry.

Bilbo kissed his forehead and pulled him close again, rubbing the back of his head soothingly. The poor child had no idea what was going on. He was too young to understand any of it, and Bilbo didn’t know what to say or do to make it better. 

“It’s going to be okay, love. Whenever you feel sad or lonely, just think of me and your Adad. We will always be with you, Bili, right here,” he pointed to the boy’s heart. Bili was crying now as he picked up on his father’s sadness, and Bilbo rocked him in his arms until the toddler calmed down. 

Bilbo spent the rest of the day trying to do everything that Bili loved. He sang to him and did silly dances that had the toddler giggling happily, and he chased him around and tickled him until the boy was exhausted. They jumped on the bed and even ate dessert for supper. 

When it came time for bed, Bilbo told him three stories instead of just one like he usually did, and then he held him in his arms all night long. He silently cried as he stared at the slumbering child until the morning came, memorizing every detail of his face. 

Gandalf was waiting for them when they walked downstairs, and Bilbo took several deep breaths to calm himself. He wanted to reassure Bili that everything was going to be alright, and he couldn’t do that if he broke down crying again. It would just scare the toddler even more, so he forced himself to put on a brave face. 

“Bili, this is Gandalf. He is an old friend of mine. He is going to take you to that family that I told you about -the one where you’re going to have lots of fun- remember? Don’t be afraid. Everything will be okay, love,” he said gently and sincerely. Bili held his father’s hand and looked nervously at the tall wizard. Gandalf smiled warmly to him as he crouched down in order to seem less intimidating. 

“Hello Bili. You know, I think I might have something for you. Would you like to see it?” Bili’s head perked up in curiosity as he watched Gandalf dig through his pocket. The wizard pulled out a wooden horse and held it out for the toddler. The boy’s eyes lit up as he took the toy, all previous worry forgotten. 

Bilbo sank to his knees and hugged his son, kissing the top of his head and lingering in the embrace for as long as he could. “I love you, Bili. Always remember that.” Bili nodded, unconcerned by the statement when his attention was focused on the new toy. Bilbo stood and cleared his throat, handing a bag to Gandalf. 

“I didn’t have time to pack too much, but there is a blue blanket in there. It’s his favorite, so make sure that this family knows that he needs it to sleep every night. And tell them to make his bath with bubbles. He loves that. Oh, and his favorite food is broccoli with cheese, but if they try to give him Brussels sprouts, he will most likely throw them,” he chuckled softly as the tears began to well up in his eyes. 

“I will tell them. He will be alright, my dear Bilbo, I promise you that,” the wizard replied gently. Bilbo swallowed and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 

Gandalf started to lead the boy away, and Bili glanced back at his father once more. When Bilbo gave him a reassuring smile, the toddler focused his attention back on the wooden horse with rapt interest. It wasn’t until after they were out the door that Bilbo let himself break down again. 

When he returned to the Shire, he told everyone that Bili had drowned in the Brandywine River, and they held a simple funeral for him. The other hobbits already knew that Fain had been captured by orcs, and while they were all annoyed that Bilbo’s husband had caused trouble for them, no one had the heart to say anything when Bilbo had just lost his child as well. 

Bilbo had been right when he told Gandalf that it wouldn’t be hard to convince everyone that he was grieving. He didn’t even have to fake his tears and heartache, because they were all too real. He felt numb inside, and the world around him felt like a much colder place. The only reason that he kept going at all was because of the hope that he would someday be reunited with his son.

He took solace in the fact that his husband and son were still alive, as far as he knew, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like his heart had been ripped from his chest. They weren’t dead, but his family was still gone.


	6. Unexpected Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finally meets the company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it has been a while since I updated. As a lot of you know, I’ve been going through a rough time lately, but things are finally starting to settle down, so I am returning to this story. 
> 
> I’m not sure if anyone is even still interested, but I will be updating about once a week until my classes are done for the summer, and then more often after that.
> 
> You’re probably wondering why Gandalf doesn’t just tell everyone who Frerin really is in this chapter, and my answer to that is… when does Gandalf ever do anything that makes sense? He brought 13 dwarves and a hobbit to face a dragon, so I don’t really think that it’s too far of a stretch to think that he’d keep this secret for his own reasons. 
> 
> This chapter is quite a bit longer than any of my other chapters, but I didn’t want to break it up into two chapters, so, umm, yay?
> 
> Comments are always very appreciated <3

Five long years later, Bilbo still felt empty and cold inside. He missed his family with every breath that he took, but the sharp pangs in his chest had turned into a dull, persistent ache. His cousins had tried to be supportive, visiting him after the funeral and bringing him food, but Bilbo had been so distant and quiet that even his favorite cousins had eventually given up. 

He isolated himself in Bag End, surrounded by the memories of what once was. They felt like memories from another lifetime. He focused his energy on solitary activities, like reading and drawing. His study was filled with hundreds of sketches of his husband and son, scattered all around the room in disarray. 

Everything in Bili’s room and the room that he shared with his husband was still identical to the way it was on the day that they left. He would clean the rooms, of course, sweeping and dusting, but he couldn’t bring himself to move or get rid of anything. Gandalf had told him that he would see Bili again eventually, and he still hadn’t given up hope. 

He knew in his heart of hearts that nothing in Bili’s room would be of use anymore since the boy was five years older than the last time he was in Bag End, but Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to believe it. He celebrated his husband and Bili’s birthdays every year with a big cake, yet he still thought of Bili as a toddler, because that’s how he remembered him. He couldn’t imagine what the boy would look like now that he was older. 

Bilbo sat on the bench in front of Bag End, smoking his pipe silently and staring out distantly across the Shire when a familiar shadow loomed over him. His head snapped up to look at the figure, and he jumped from his seat almost instantly. 

“Is it Bili? Is he okay?” He hadn’t seen Gandalf since the day the wizard took his son to live somewhere else, and Bilbo was terrified that he was bringing bad news. Cold dread filled his entire body as his heart started beating faster and the panic made him light-headed. Gandalf raised his hand calmly to reassure Bilbo. 

“Bili is perfectly fine, I can assure you.” Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief and sank back down on the bench, his heart starting to slow down as confusion began to replace his worry. 

“Then why are you here? Do you have news about Fain?” Gandalf shook his head and gave Bilbo a small, sad smile. 

“I’m afraid not. I am here for an entirely different matter. You see, I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.” Bilbo blinked up at him in disbelief. He was joking, right? 

“An adventure?” He repeated, waiting for the punch line. Gandalf merely nodded as his smile widened, and Bilbo furrowed his brows while frowning in annoyance. The wizard must have lost his mind. There was absolutely no way that he was going on any sort of adventure. The idea was completely preposterous. 

“No, I don’t think so,” he stated simply before standing up to walk inside, but Gandalf stopped him again with a loud and booming voice. 

“Bilbo Baggins, you have been sitting in Bag End for five years now, wallowing in self-pity. You’ve changed, and not entirely for the better.” Bilbo’s eyes narrowed as the rage started to build in his gut. How dare the wizard say that? He had some nerve coming to his home and insulting him like that. Of course he had changed. He wasn’t an orc; he couldn’t just shut off his emotions and suddenly stop caring. 

The anger seemed to boil over as he spat out angrily, “I’ve changed? Well, I wonder why. Oh, I know, perhaps because I lost my husband and son. Is that not reason enough for you?” Gandalf’s harsh gaze softened and sympathy shone in his eyes, yet it did nothing to calm Bilbo’s temper. 

“I know that this has been difficult-” Bilbo scoffed loudly at the understatement, but Gandalf ignored it and continued. “But as I told you before, this is not permanent. You will see your son again, and quite possibly your husband. But in the meantime, you cannot let yourself rot away until you’re just a shell of your former self. Neither of them would want that for you. So it’s decided. It’ll be very good for you. I shall inform the others.” Bilbo shook his head vehemently, starting to back away from the crazy wizard. 

“No, I don’t think so, Gandalf. I suggest you try over the hill or across the water.” He reached his door before turning back and adding as a polite afterthought, “good morning.” He shut the door quickly, resting up against the inside as he breathed deeply to steady himself. 

He sincerely hoped that Gandalf would just leave this alone. He needed to wait in Bag End in case Bili was able to come home soon, or in case Fain managed to make it back to him. He couldn’t just leave and go gallivanting around Middle-earth. There was no way. 

Several days passed, and Bilbo finally stopped feeling on edge all the time as he waited for the wizard’s unwelcome return. Perhaps he had given up. Bilbo doubted it, but he dared to hope. Gandalf was wasting his time with him after all, and surely he would rather find someone more willing? 

He had just sat down to eat his dinner – roasted fish in lemon juice, Fain’s favorite – when he heard a knock on the door. He furrowed his brows, wondering who on earth would visit him at such a late hour and silently praying that it wasn’t Gandalf. When he opened the door and saw a burly, rough-looking dwarf, he was stunned silent. 

“Dwalin, at your service.” The dwarf bowed, never breaking eye contact, and Bilbo was actually rather unnerved by it. He was pulled from his shock by his manners returning to him. 

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” The dwarf strolled inside and passed Bilbo, and the hobbit frowned at the movement before a thought occurred to him. Perhaps this was the dwarf that Bili had been living with, and now he was here to tell Bilbo that Bili could come home. 

“Do we know each other?” He knew they had never met before, but he didn’t dare ask about Bili, in case this was the wrong dwarf. His hopes were dashed when the other looked at him like he had grown two heads and shot out harshly, “No.” Bilbo sighed. 

Well, he was slightly relieved that Bili hadn’t been living with this dwarf. He hardly seemed like the paternal, friendly type. But then what in the world was the other doing in his house? He didn’t want anyone here, let alone someone who would remind him of his husband and son.

Granted, this Dwalin was nothing like either of them, but he was still of the same race, and it made Bilbo want to run away from his presence. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat as the memories threatened to resurface, and the dwarf turned and handed his cloak to Bilbo ungraciously. 

“Which way laddie? Is it down here?” Bilbo furrowed his brows as his eyes searched the room for answers before finally returning to the dwarf. 

“Is what down where?” The dwarf scoffed, obviously annoyed by Bilbo’s ignorance, and Bilbo wanted to smack him. How rude. Fain would have never acted like this. 

“Supper. He said there'd be food, and lots of it.” Bilbo opened his mouth as the dwarf began to walk into the other room. 

“He said? Who said?” He said aloud to himself in confusion. He had a sneaking suspicion of who the other was talking about, but he seriously hoped that he was wrong. The wizard wanted Bilbo to go on an adventure, but he couldn’t fathom that Gandalf would dare to bring a dwarf into his house; not after everything that had happened. He entered the room to see the dwarf eating his dinner, and he huffed silently. Really, the audacity of this dwarf to just walk into a stranger’s house and eat his food. 

“Very good. Got anymore?” The other gruffed out, and Bilbo was pulled from his thoughts. Despite the other’s lack of manners, he was still going to be polite like one should be, even though he really just wanted the dwarf out of his home as quickly as possible. 

“What? Oh yes.” He picked up the bowl of biscuits, but upon remembering how much food his husband could eat, he stuffed two into his pocket so that he would at least have something to eat later. 

“Help yourself.” He handed him the bowl, and the dwarf began to tuck into the food as if he were starving. It occurred to Bilbo that he might actually be starving, and it made him feel a little guilty, so he continued hesitantly. 

“It's just that I wasn't expecting company.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the doorbell rang again, and he looked at it in shock. 

“That'll be the door,” the dwarf shot back incredulously, as if Bilbo was the one being rude. The hobbit walked to the door in confusion, opening it to find yet another dwarf standing at his door. This one was obviously older, with a snow white beard but friendly smile. 

“Balin, at your service.” He said in a friendly tone and bowed. 

Bilbo just stared at him before saying flatly, “Good evening.” Though truthfully, it was anything but. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight, or any night for that matter. Really, if Bili and his husband were here, then he wouldn’t mind entertaining some of Fain’s friends or family, but they weren’t here, and these dwarves were strangers. The older dwarf nodded, looking to the sky. 

“Yes, yes it is. Though I think it might rain later. Am I late?” Bilbo huffed, getting very tired of these silly questions that he had no idea how to answer. 

“Late for what?” Before the other could respond, he seemed to spot the other dwarf in the dining room and exclaimed happily, “Oh, evening brother.” They strolled to meet each other, and the fierce-looking dwarf actually had a smile on his face for the first time since Bilbo had met him. 

“By my beard, you're shorter and wider than last we met.” Bilbo watched the close, fond interaction with them and felt a twinge in his heart. They seemed like they hadn’t seen each other in years, and even in Bilbo’s irritated mood, the reunion still warmed his heart. He knew how desperately he wanted a reunion with his own family, so he couldn’t even bring himself to interrupt yet. 

“Wider, not shorter. Sharp enough for both of us,” the older one responded in amusement. They smiled to each other for a moment before roughly slamming their heads together. Bilbo gaped, rubbing his own forehead in sympathy pain. 

Fain had told him that this was a customary greeting for dwarves, but Bilbo was immensely grateful that he had never used it on Bilbo. He probably would have fainted. He followed the brothers into his pantry as they started to throw away his perfectly good blue cheese, exclaiming that it had gone bad. Obviously they knew nothing about how delicious this cheese was. 

“Excuse me. It's just that I'm not entirely sure that you're in the right house. You see, I like visitors as much as the next hobbit, but I do like to know them, before they come visiting. The thing is, I don't know either of you; not in the slightest.”

They completely ignored his tirade, talking animatedly amongst themselves, and Bilbo continued, “I don't mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind. I'm sorry.” He held his hands up in apology, and the two silenced instantly, turning to him. 

“Apology accepted,” the older one said, and Bilbo blinked and frowned, jutting out his lip in a small pout. When the doorbell rang again, he thought he was going to cry. No more. Please no, he thought. When he opened it, he was stuck with a very familiar sight. 

“Fili, Kili, at your service.” The brother’s bowed, but Bilbo was focused on the blonde one. They were both young, but Fili was obviously older. He looked like a striking image of Fain – a younger version of him, to be exact- and Bilbo felt his breath catch in his throat. Everything seemed to stop as his heart hammered in his ears. His head started swimming as the dark-haired one continued happily. 

“You must be Mr. Boggins.” The voice sounded distant and far away, and Bilbo stumbled back, feeling like he was going to faint. His knees were threatening to give out, and he held onto the table to steady himself. The boys’ eyes widened in surprise as they rushed to his side. 

“Mr. Boggins, are you alright?” Bilbo swallowed and tried to breathe, but his lungs felt completely empty and shriveled up. They were both looking at him in concern, and he blinked away the tears that were forming. They were just kids. He didn’t want to upset them over something that they couldn’t possibly understand. It was just a crazy coincidence. 

Yet even their names were too similar; Fili and Kili. They were so close to Bili’s name that it made Bilbo’s chest ache in agony. They reminded him of the two that he had loved the most and lost, and he wasn’t sure how to even comprehend the situation. 

He straightened as much as he could, despite his head still feeling light, to try and alleviate the boys concern. They looked worried, and his protective, paternal instincts kicked in automatically, and he felt the driving need to soothe them and calm them down.

“Yes, fine,” he whispered out, trying to give these children a reassuring smile, though he could tell that it was weak. It was hard to even get his voice to work, and his words sounded raspy to him. They both eyed him in doubt, but then the fierce looking dwarf walked in. 

“Fili, Kili, come on. Give us a hand.” The younger boy went with him eagerly, greeting him by name as if he were an old friend. The blonde remained behind and began to unload a large array of weapons, placing them on the table as he eyed Bilbo curiously. 

“Careful with these. I just had them sharpened.” Bilbo nodded, though his mind was reeling. Why did this boy have so many weapons? He may look like Fain, but he was certainly a younger version of him; too young to carry so many dangerous knives and daggers. 

Really, his parents should be ashamed of sending him out so heavily-armed. He could get hurt. Speaking of the boys’ parents, where were they? The two younger dwarves should definitely not be traveling around by themselves, and in the dark no less! 

When the doorbell rang again, Bilbo was ready to scream. He was practically seething as he shouted out, “Oh no, no, no. There's nobody home. Go away and bother somebody else. There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. If this is some clothead's idea of a joke,” he stopped to laugh pathetically. “I can only say, it is in very poor taste.” He swung the door open and a pile of dwarves landed at his feet with a collective groan. 

He blinked down at them, completely lost as to how to react to the group that had showed up at his house unannounced. When he caught sight of the wizard behind the group, he sighed in a mixture of resignation, understanding, anger and annoyance. He wasn’t sure which emotion he was feeling the most, but regardless, he was not happy about this turn of events. 

“Gandalf,” he stated simply. He should have known. He wasn’t surprised that the wizard had ignored his wishes about not going on an adventure, but to bring so many dwarves into his home after everything that had happened was just bad form. He could hardly believe that Gandalf would be that insensitive.

The mere sight of dwarves in his home brought up all the memories that he had been trying so hard to repress, and that didn’t even count Fili and Kili, whose presence in and of itself was slowly breaking his heart. They would far too much like Fain and Bili.

The entire group began to make their way into the pantry, taking the food out and moving it to the dining room. Bilbo couldn’t even fight them as he leaned heavily against the table again, trying to stop his body from shaking so badly. 

“My dear Bilbo, are you feeling alright?” Gandalf asked calmly, and Bilbo glared at him as the anger resurfaced. 

“Of course I’m not alright. How could you bring them into my home after…” he trailed off, suddenly losing all of his energy again and deflating. He continued in a small whisper, “Fili looks so much like Fain.” He glanced up at Gandalf to see the wizard smiling kindly at him. 

“That is indeed a strange coincidence,” he said softly, but Bilbo could swear that he saw a twinkle in the wizard’s eyes. He pushed those thoughts aside though, because he didn’t have nearly enough energy to try and make sense of them at that moment. 

He finally gathered enough strength to start trying to take his food back from the dwarves that had confiscated it. They were going to eat him out of house and home! By the time all the food was on the table, he went to inspect his pantry to find it entirely empty. When he heard a loud burp from behind him, he finally huffed and gave up. 

They were apparently not going away – a thought which frustrated him to no end. He would get revenge on Gandalf for this. One of these days, the wizard was going to find quite a few bugs in his hat when he tried to put it on. He walked back into the room to see the company eating and laughing uproariously. His eyes locked on Kili and Fili. The younger of the two had a plate full of meat and sweets only.

Bilbo tsked and walked over, grabbing a bowl of broccoli and piling some on Kili’s plate. The brunette looked at him questioningly with a small, amused smile on his face, but Bilbo ignored him as he placed some more bread on Fili’s plate. They had obviously just traveled a long distance, so they needed a lot of food to replenish their strength. Fili stared at the bread and then back at Bilbo with his eyebrows furrowed, but Bilbo ignored him too. 

He merely walked to the other side of the room to try and escape the ghosts that the boys were bringing back into his mind. Not surprisingly, it didn’t work. He was disgusted by the group’s table manners. Fain had never been so rude or disrespectful. He was beginning to wonder if his husband was completely different from the rest of his race, though Bilbo supposed that should have been a given since he married a hobbit – that was hardly common dwarf behavior. 

Fili began to walk across the table, and Bilbo gaped up at him as he muttered under his breath. “Why, I never – is that ale? Oh no.” He strolled over to the boys quickly and grabbed the two pints of ale from their hands.

“No, no, no. You two are far too young for this stuff.” The company fell silent, staring at him in shock, while Fili and Kili wore identical, insulted expressions that showed their dismay. Finally, after what seemed like an hour of awkward silence, the rest of the company burst out laughing, causing Fili to scowl and Kili to shrink back in his seat. 

The one with intricate braids in his hair and face – Bilbo thought his name was Dori – patted him on the back heartily as he took his little brother’s pint as well. Bilbo felt a little more pleased than he should have by the action. Maybe at least one of the dwarves wasn’t completely insane and rude. At least this one knew that children should not be drinking ale! Honestly, the idea was terrible. 

He started to loudly complain to Gandalf, entirely not caring that the company could hear him. He would have been appalled by his own rudeness, but these had come into his house uninvited, stolen his food, and been incredibly impolite. His rant was interrupted by the little one that Dori had taken the ale from earlier. 

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate.” Bilbo’s face softened at the politeness of the dwarf. His older brother was obviously a very good role model for him. As he was about to answer, he saw Fili approach out of the corner of his eye. 

“Here Ori, give it to me.” The blonde grabbed the plate and threw it, and Bilbo’s eyes widened in shock. Kili caught it and threw it into the kitchen as they started to sing a song of “That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates.” Bilbo could practically feel smoke coming out of his ears from his seething. The boys were obviously trying to get back at him for the ale incident – those little shits. 

Didn’t their parents ever teach them any manners? Well, he had to doubt it since they were traveling around in the dark all by themselves. Perhaps they had no parents. The thought made Bilbo’s heart ache, and he tried to push it aside. As he entered the kitchen to see his dishes stacked high, and surprisingly not broken, the doorbell rang again and everyone went deathly silent. 

“He’s here,” Gandalf said ominously. Well, that did not sound good. Not at all. Bilbo was less than thrilled to have another dwarf in his home, let alone one that was obviously intimidating to the rest of the group. Gandalf answered the door and another dwarf entered, but his posture was one of regality and smugness, as if he thought he was superior to everyone else. 

“Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all if it hadn't been for that mark on the door.” His voice was gruff and condescending, and Bilbo scoffed. 

“Mark? No, there's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago.” Gandalf placed a calming hand on his shoulder and laughed awkwardly. 

“There is a mark; I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilbo looked at him and blinked in contemplation. Thorin looked familiar; not like Fili looked familiar, but familiar none the less. Bilbo couldn’t quite place his finger on exactly what was so similar between Thorin and Fain, but there was something. He barely heard the next words leave the dwarf’s mouth. 

“So, this is the hobbit? Tell me Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?” He only caught half of the question, as he had been lost in his musing, so he furrowed in brows in confusion. 

“Pardon?” The man looked down at him disdainfully, and Bilbo bristled at the response. 

“Axe or sword, what is your weapon of choice?” Bilbo cocked his head to the side in confusion. Why did that matter? And what business was that of his anyway? He decided to give a sarcastic remark to such a stupid, irrelevant question. 

“Well, I do have some skills in conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevant.” The other dwarf scoffed haughtily, obviously not catching the sarcasm. 

“Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” He walked into the dining room with the other dwarves laughing behind him, and Bilbo’s eyes bulged out his head. That was it. Gandalf had to grab him back as he leapt to jump on the dwarf. 

He had no doubt that Thorin was stronger than him, but his anger from the entire night had reached its breaking point at the comment, and he needed to release it someway; in his opinion, hitting the arrogant, rude dwarf would be a great way. Fortunately, no one else seemed to notice his little outburst except Fili and Kili, who looked at him curiously. 

He stood in the hall a few minutes to collect himself, before finally resolving to go in there and tell them all the go to hell and leave his house. They were in the middle of a conversation, and Bilbo only heard the last part. 

“They say this quest is ours, and ours alone.” His anger was temporarily replaced by curiosity. He couldn’t help it. It was the Took part of him. 

“You’re going on a quest?” No one replied, and Bilbo felt his annoyance return immediately. It was beyond rude to come into his house, uninvited no less, and then act as if he wasn’t even there. Gandalf turned to him and cleared his throat. 

“Ah, Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light.” Bilbo huffed but went to retrieve the light anyway. When he returned, he saw a map sprawled on the table. 

“The Lonely Mountain,” he read to himself. The company continued speaking, but Bilbo tuned them out as he tried to wrack his brain for why that sounded so familiar. 

He couldn’t recall Fain telling him a lot about it, because he surely would have remembered it then, but his husband must have at least mentioned it, because the name sparked something in his mind. He tried to make the connection, but he was coming up blank. He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard someone mention a beast. 

“What beast?” He asked, and the dwarf with the funny hat responded casually, though his words were anything but. 

“Oh, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age: airborne fire breather; teeth like razors; claws like meat hooks; extremely fond of precious metals.” Bilbo regarded the dwarf in annoyance. 

“Yes, I know what a dragon is.” What he didn’t know was why the hell they were going to confront one. Just then, the little one, Ori, stood up defiantly. 

“I’m not afraid. I’ll give him the taste of the wolvish iron right up his jacksie!” Bilbo was taken aback by the statement, but he was saved from commenting by Dori, who yanked his little brother to sit down in annoyance. Dori seemed like he took very good care of his brother, and the paternal side of Bilbo was grateful that Ori had someone like him. Obviously that was what Fili and Kili needed. 

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us, but we number just 13, and not 13 of the best nor brightest,” Balin said, and Bilbo almost laughed. Perhaps this dwarf wasn’t so bad either. The dwarves started to argue but Fili smacked his fist on the table. 

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters; all of us, to the last dwarf!” Bilbo’s mouth hung open in horror. Oh no, definitely not; there was no way that those boys were going to face a dragon. They were practically children! It was insane. 

Kili continued, “And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!” The company kept talking, but Bilbo only heard bits and pieces as he was focused on Kili’s statement. He silently glared at Gandalf, highly annoyed that the wizard would ever take such young dwarves on such a dangerous mission. They could get hurt! 

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori said, though this comment was less adamant than his last one. Bilbo nodded at the statement because Ori was right. 

“Mmm, a good one too. An expert, I’d imagine,” he added in as an afterthought. The company fell silent and turned to him.

“And are you?” asked the one with bright red hair that Bilbo thought was called Gloin. He blinked. 

“Am I what?” The one beside him, Oin, looked happy. 

“He said he’s an expert!” Some of the company looked pleased and others doubtful, but Bilbo merely shook his head vehemently. 

“Me? No, no, no. I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.” Okay, so that wasn’t technically true, but really, it was a long time ago, and that was none of their business. 

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material,” the oldest one responded, though not entirely unkind, and Bilbo shrugged at the truth in his words. 

The first dwarf, Dwalin added in harshly, “Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” Bilbo was about to tell the incredibly rude dwarf exactly what he thought about that statement, but Gandalf cut him off, trying to stop a fight from erupting. The wizard stood spitefully, and the air darkened around him as he spoke in a large, booming voice. 

“Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is. Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can past unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the 14th member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There’s a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this.” 

Bilbo swallowed at the words, slightly placated by the compliment, and Thorin spoke up again, though he still never looked back at Bilbo. The hobbit was curious if there was a reason that Thorin was pointedly ignoring his gaze, but he shrugged it off. He was probably just a jerk like that. 

“Very well. We’ll do it your way. Give him the contract.” A long parchment was thrust at him, and he started to read it incredulously. Not the he was going, but he was curious about what it said. When he reached the part about funeral arrangements, he balked. 

“Incineration?” he read in disbelief. Seriously, who put that in a contract? If they wanted him to go, then that was not the best way to accomplish it. 

“Oh, aye. It’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye,” Bofur said again in an entirely unhelpful way. Bilbo gulped. He looked at Fili and Kili, and even Ori as his head started swimming and he felt dizzy. 

“You alright, laddie?” Balin asked kindly, and Bilbo shook his head slightly. No, he was not alright, but he wasn’t going to say that. 

“Yes, I feel a bit faint,” was all he said as he held onto the table to steady himself. 

“Think furnace, with wings,” said Bofur, and Bilbo was fairly certain that he wanted to kill the dwarf. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe as the panic overtook him. 

“I need air,” he gasped out as images of the younger dwarves dying from a dragon flashed across his mind. All of a sudden, the overwhelming fear and panic that he felt for Bili came rushing to the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t push down the memories anymore of running away from the pack of orcs with Bili gripping his shirt and crying, all the while praying that he could protect his son. 

“Flash of light, searing pain, and then poof, you’re nothing more than a pile of ash,” Bofur continued, but Bilbo couldn’t even focus on the words as his heart rate sped up so high that he fainted.

When he regained consciousness, Gandalf helped him up and handed him a blanket. The dwarves were keeping themselves occupied with other things, and Bilbo was grateful for the reprieve from their company. He didn’t say anything until he was seated in his armchair with a warm cup of tea. 

“I cannot go with you, Gandalf, you know that. After everything that happened.” He kept his voice low so that no one would overhear, and the words seemed to hang in the air. Gandalf sighed sadly and gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“That is precisely why you need to go. You cannot sit around here forever suffocating in your memories. Trust me when I say that this quest is something that your husband would believe in whole-heartedly.” Bilbo hesitated for a moment, almost convinced, but he finally shook his head. 

“No, I have to wait for Bili.” If there was even a chance that Bili would return home, then Bilbo couldn’t leave. Yet Gandalf simply shook his head again.

“I will be the one to tell you when it is safe for Bili to come home, and since I am going on this quest, I can assure you that your son will not be back until it is over.” The comment made Bilbo’s insides twist painfully, and the rage boiled in his gut again as he glared angrily at the wizard. 

“So my son’s life and happiness isn’t as important as this quest?” Gandalf moved to speak, but Bilbo silenced him with a hand. “No, Gandalf, I’m not going. Find someone else.” He stalked off to his room and slammed the door, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself. He wanted them gone immediately, but he was too polite to kick them out, so he waited anxiously for them to depart the next morning. 

He overheard the company sing a song about their desire to reclaim their lost home, and their voices were so sad and broken that his heart went out to them. The song actually reminded Bilbo a lot of Frerin, and he fell into a fitful sleep with it replaying in his head. His nightmares were plagued by images of loss and dragon fire. 

When he awoke, the house was silent. He cautiously walked out to find everyone gone. He breathed a sigh of relief, but the feeling was soon replaced with anxiety when he realized that the house felt too quiet. Gandalf was right about one thing; he was suffocating in memories. He caught sight of the contract on the table and stared at it. 

The word ‘incineration’ seemed to stand out, and his minds instantly went to the boys. They were out there in the wild, completely unprotected. Sure, they were with the company, and Bilbo didn’t doubt that several of them were skilled warriors, but it still didn’t feel like enough to Bilbo. The panic was overwhelming him again at the thought of his own son being out there somewhere, alone and in danger. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbed the contact and ran from the house. He couldn’t help Bili right now, but he could at least try and help Kili and Fili; at the very least, he could make sure that they ate and stayed warm. He would never admit it to himself, but a part of him wanted to get away from the painful memories of Bag End. He wanted to feel something, anything, other than heartbreak and sadness, and this was his chance. He was going on an adventure.


End file.
